


Red Light Special

by Sunshine_Magnet



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Amsterdam, Daddy Liam, F/M, I'll be your red light special, Okay Not Really, Prostitution, Say what?, TLC is awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2050650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshine_Magnet/pseuds/Sunshine_Magnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's never done anything like this before - rent a room and solicit sex.  He's never really paid for sex before.  Where else but in Amsterdam could something like this happen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Light Special

**Author's Note:**

> You can't tell me you haven't thought about what would happen if Liam Payne took a "casual" stroll through the Red Light District... We just put our pens to paper.

_Baby it's yours, all yours_  
 _If you want it tonight_  
 _I'll be your red light special_  
 _All through the night_

_Baby it's yours, all yours_  
 _If you want it tonight_  
 _Just come through my door_  
 _Take off my clothes_  
 _And turn on the red light_

_Red Light Special ~ TLC_

 

She's so nervous, her legs are actually trembling as she hands over the 150 Euros to the relatively normal looking man in the office. It's late, or early, depending on how you view things; Amsterdam, or more accurately, the Red Light District, where she currently stands, seems to operate twenty-four hours a day.

She's not the only one showing up to rent a spot at three in the morning, the queue behind her has close to twenty women in it. Tall, short, young, old, drop dead gorgeous, and well- some who have on a lot of make-up; in the end, all of these women have one thing in common.

They are all willing to let men pay them for sex.

She never in a million years thought she would find herself in this situation. Never did she envision a future that included her handing over a fistful of cash to a man in a nice suit to rent a window in the Red Light District. 

"One hundred fifty for 12 hours. Room 94 is yours. Here is the key and there is a bell for security in the headboard. The room must be cleaned when you are finished." Short, clipped sentences from the man tell her all she needs to know; no, he actually tells her more than she needs to know, but she refuses to let her thoughts linger.

Today is only a means to an end, she reminds herself. She is not a prostitute.

She thinks of her flat, her home, some 300 miles away. Dreary, grey, rainy London with all of its tea and royalty and posh-ness. Secretly, she loves it, but Amsterdam? The weather has been beautiful, mild and sunny, allowing her to explore the city by foot. The canals with their myriad of boats are mesmerizing, the colors of the flora around her awe inspiring.

Even the beauty of the city can't cheer her as she sits here, nearing four am, her eye carefully primed on the passersby on the street. She swallows her humiliation as people stare, tying her trench coat tighter around her waist. She knows she's not dressed like the others; she absolutely couldn't handle the mortification of standing in front of a window in her skivvies, much less nude like some of the other ladies. However, she knows she's going to have to lose the coat in order for this night to come to an end sooner rather than later.

Besides -- it's almost time.

She plucks a bottle out of her bag, downing the clear liquid in a few gulps, ignoring the fire in her throat and her belly. She grips the belt to her tan trench coat, fingering the nylon material before finally mustering up the courage to untie it. The tan belt drops to her sides, the coat spreading open. As it falls down her arms, she gathers it in one hand, folding it over the only chair provided.

She walks back toward the window, her heart threatening to seize in her chest. It's as bare as she's ever been in front of a group of strangers, save for maybe her annual gyno visit; her black panties are lacy and tiny, the royal purple of her bustier makes her skin appear an even lighter shade of porcelain under the dim of the red light.

She’d always thought it was a joke - that the Red Light District was just a name they coined for the area of Amsterdam where prostitution is legal. But as she stands under the warm red lights, she knows they are far more symbolic than she'd ever given them credit for.

One black thigh-high slips free from her garter belt, so she bends, naturally, to roll it back up her thigh and fasten it, startling when a finger taps on the glass.

As one man dressed all in black walks away from her window, another comes into view, motioning for her to come to the window where they can speak.

"What'll 50 get me?"

_A suck and a fuck, a suck and a fuck._ She knows the lines, she's been reciting them since hearing them fall from one of the lady's lips while she was in the queue.

"I said, what'll 50 get me?" His voice is deep, raspy, British and if she isn't mistaken, he sounds a bit annoyed.

"A suck and a fuck," she says, her voice shaky, betraying her nerves. "A suck and a fuck," she repeats, her voice steadier and clear, albeit a bit lower than normal.

He stands in front of her, presumably thinking, his bottom lip disappearing under his teeth. He's beautiful, this man, his eyes dark and almost penetrating. He nods quickly. "Yeah, alright. That'll do." 

She steps back, unlocking the door and inviting him inside. "Cash first," another line she's practiced for the last hour. He smirks at her, counting the bills out from his wallet. 

"What'll another 50 get me?" He holds the bills in front of her, teasing, running them over the exposed skin on her breasts. Color blooms across her chest and she stutters, not knowing how to answer him. "Would another 50 get me a taste of your pussy?"

She swallows her gasp, schooling her face into one of nonchalance. "It would."

He throws the additional bills down with the first. "Huh," he scoffs. "I have another 50 left to spend. You wouldn't happen to know how I might be able to spend it, would you?" His dark eyes almost twinkle with mischief.

She arches an eyebrow and shrugs. "I might know a way, yeah," she answers, thinking if anyone can pay off her nightly rent, this would be the guy to do it. She eyes him carefully. His appearance sends her a message of casualness- grey sweats, graphic t-shirt, snapback, tennis shoes. She wonders if the sun were out if he'd be wearing sunglasses, too. It's his watch that's the dead giveaway, though, the heavy platinum bracelet circling his wrist, concealing a bit of ink underneath. That watch definitely cost more than some people make in a year.

He drops the remaining cash in his hand on the stack. "Well, let's see what'cha got. What's your name, love?"

This wasn't in the script. She swallows hard, trying to think quickly. "Greta."

He arches a perfect eyebrow at her and nods. "Well, _Greta_ ," he pauses, smirking at her, knowing full well she's just given him a fake name. "How much time do I have?"

"For a hundred and fifty euros, that buys you an hour. Let's go upstairs." She tucks the cash into her handbag, a plain, black, nondescript tote before wrapping herself up in her trench coat and taking his hand. She leads him through a corridor to a narrow stairwell, leading them to Room 94.

The room is tiny, a full-sized bed dominating the floor space, a nightstand with a lamp on one side illuminating the small area. Within moments she's standing before her suitor in her lingerie, pieces picked carefully for this moment. 

"I believe you said a suck and, what was it? A fuck? That comes first?" His tone is teasing, but his eyes are anything but. She nods wordlessly, praying he takes the lead but realizing within a beat of a second that he won't. He’s content to let her be in control.

She eyes him in his sweats, his cock hardening under her gaze. She licks her lips and steps forward, tossing his hat onto the floor, reaching for the wide elastic waistband just under the hem of his shirt. Her nails trace along his skin before slipping inside his pants, her hand gripping his cock through his boxers. He slides them over his hips, letting them fall to his feet as she drops to her knees. Her hand pumps him slowly, relishing in the feel of him in her palm. 

She peels his boxers down his legs, her fingernails dragging along his sensitive skin, teasing the fine hairs coating his thighs before she places a soft kiss on the tip of his cock. Her tongue darts out, tasting the salty bead of liquid pooled there and she moans appreciatively. "You have such a pretty cock." Before he can form a response, she swallows him down, taking as much of him in as she can, her hand wrapping around his base.

"Ah, fuck," he groans, his head rolling back. "Yes," he hisses as her head bobs up and down, her mouth so warm, so wet, so good around his length. "Can I?" He stutters, his fingers lingering on her neck, teasing the nape. She glances up, her eyes bright with desire, and nods her assent, giving a little hum around him when she feels the added pressure of his fingers against her scalp.

His hips rock forward, testing her, smug satisfaction filling him when he feels her pull away slightly. "Be a good girl, Greta," he sneers. "Take all of my cock." He fucks her mouth, watching her closely for any signs of distress. He doesn't want to be rough with her, truly he doesn't, but he can't lie and say the thought of just fucking her hard and rough in this little room tucked deep inside the Red Light District doesn't appeal to him, either. He reigns himself in, focusing on her mouth, the obscene slurps and whimpers coming from her music to his ears.

"So good, Madi-" he groans, her name almost slipping through his lips. _"Greta."_ Her fingers dance up his thigh, cupping his balls as she continues to work his base with her other tight fist. When she presses down, sucking around his tip, he pulls her off, his cock bobbing against her cheek. "I think it's time you let me fuck you."

She smirks, understanding dawning. He's paid for this, he obviously wants to prolong his own orgasm, and who is she to deny him? She promised him a suck and a fuck, rather crudely, as well as the promise of an added bonus for his money. She flips her long hair over her shoulder and arches an eyebrow in challenge. "And how do you want me..." She pauses, waiting for him to give her a name. Realizing he doesn't pick up on her cue, she flicks her finger toward him, grabbing his t-shirt with the silly comic book character and pulling him up close against her. "Daddy? Can I call you Daddy?" She purrs as he groans and nods his approval. 

She runs her hands from her hips to her breasts, cupping them, the tight bustier and the pressure causing them to nearly bulge from their lacy confines. "Daddy, I think I need some help," she turns slowly, glancing over her shoulder at him and batting her eyelashes. "Can you help me?"

He chuckles, amused by her choice of words. "I think I can help you in multiple ways, Madi-, _fuck,_ Greta." He makes quick work of her bustier, unhooking and unlacing the ribbon and loosening it so it falls to her hips. She pushes it down, wiggling her hips, swirling them with an ounce of sass, grinding against his groin. He smooths her hair over one shoulder and nips at her ear. "Knees on the bed." He hooks a long finger through the black string she calls panties, tugging them down her legs. "These are positively naughty," he fingers the black satin still around her hips, holding the thigh highs in place.

With one knee on the bed, she cocks her hip out, opening herself to him, enticing him. "Maybe I need to be punished, _Daddy,_ " she teases. She's caught him almost slipping a couple of times and resolves to stay in character, to finish this elaborate charade. She knows he won't resist spanking her, and true enough, she squeals quietly when his hand connects with her ass, a satisfying smack echoing in the small room.

"Stay still," he says darkly, pumping his cock and smirking at her. "Bend over, naughty girl." He pushes at the base of her spine and she folds like paper, her ass in the air, just like he likes it. His finger teases her entrance. "So fucking wet. You liked that, didn't you? You like being naughty." 

It's true. The anonymity Amsterdam provided them, the opportunity to live out this far-fetched fantasy, where he picks her out among the ladies of the Red Light District, absolutely thrilled her. It came to her a few weeks ago at home, and when he came in from a show and found her laptop open revealing her Google searches. Granted, she had been searching “Things to do in Amsterdam 2 days”, but Liam’s imagination wandered, nevertheless. He jokingly asked her if she wanted to go to the famous district and the rest, they say, is history.

His band had two nights in the city, with days off before and after. They'd been flying into their venue cities normally the day of the show and leaving straightaway. No one would expect to see him on the streets at four in the morning the day of a show. As he waited in one of the coffee shops nearby, he practically stared at his phone, snapback drawn low on his forehead, waiting for the message to come from Paddy.

_**Mate. She's ready.**_

Liam found Paddy standing guard on the street easily; he stood head and shoulders above most of the casual passersby, and he was one of the only men not gawking at the ladies in the windows.

For as much as he pays him, he _better_ not be staring at his girl in the window. Paddy may be taller than him, but Liam's quick and wouldn't hesitate to kick his ass.

"Daddy, fuck me," she murmurs, and Liam realizes he's been teasing her. He slips into her, groaning at the sensation, her tight, wet heat enveloping him.

"Yes, babe, fuck," he stutters, slipping, not caring anymore. He grips her ass, the pressure of his fingers turning her skin white, threatening to bruise her when he releases her. She meets him thrust for thrust, rocking her ass back into him, her breath in short pants as he hits her g-spot. She leans down, resting on her elbows, groaning when the angle changes just slightly.

“Oh God, Daddy, so good,” she coos, the urge to call him by his name strong. The “Daddy Direction” nickname has faded some over the last year, his recent penchant for clubbing and drinking having something to do with it; however every time she’s said it, Liam’s gotten a bit more intense - hands gripping tighter, hips rocking harder, grunts getting louder. She feels his fingers make their way to her clit, pressing on her bundle of nerves, teasing her toward her own orgasm.

Liam chases his release with every thrust, a fine sheen of sweat collecting on his brow as he moves faster, harder, fucking his girl bent over on this bed. “Say it again,” he grunts.

She smiles to herself. “Daddy, yes, please,” she begs, warmth flooding her veins. He pumps into her, fingers tapping her on the ass, a signal she heeds. He pulls out, grabbing himself at the base, trying to hold off just a minute longer as she spins around, sitting on her ass in front of him.

With wide eyes, she opens her mouth, allowing him to come in her mouth; thick, white ropes of come coating her throat as she swallows. Her taste on him is strong, and she moans as she licks his shaft slowly, allowing him to pulse through his orgasm. She releases him with a quiet pop and smiles up at him.

Liam envelops her in a kiss, his mouth fierce on hers, lips threatening to bruise, teeth nipping at her lips. “God, you drive me crazy, you know that?” He holds her face gently in his hands, his kisses slowing. “I love these thigh highs,” he says, one hand dropping to trace the elastic band on her thigh.

“I could say the same,” she whimpers, shifting her weight, trying to tamp down the need she feels in her core. Liam’s lips are a marvel, so soft and plump and wet; she loves kissing him, but God, she wants his mouth on her in other ways. 

“Oh yeah,” he chuckles, noticing her discomfort. “What was the next 50 euro for?” He knows exactly what he “paid” for, he just wants to hear her say it.

She rolls her eyes, a puff of air from her lips moving her blonde hair out of her face. “Youweregonnaeatmypussy,” she says quietly, so quickly Liam can hardly make out the words. 

“What was that? Something about your pussy?” He’s teasing her, she knows. He steps inches away from her, stretching his back, putting on a show. “I’m pretty tired,” he pouts, sticking his lip out. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning when he hears her mutter something under her breath. “What was that, sweetheart? I couldn’t hear you.” He tilts her face up to his.

“I said I’ll just have to finish myself off alone, then.” She scoots away from him, settling herself on the two pillows left on the bed, as if there was ever any sleeping that would’ve been done here. Once she’s comfortable, she allows her hand to drift to her center, spreading her legs for Liam to see, her finger teasing her pussy, collecting and spreading her warmth over her entrance. “I mean, if you really want to rest, then…”

Liam’s eyes focus on her finger as it dips inside her, stifling a groan when she brings it to his lips.

“You did pay for a taste,” she teases, circling her nipple with her wet finger. “Was that worth it, Daddy?” She bites her lip when Liam kneels on the bed between her splayed legs, taking his t-shirt off in a smooth motion and tossing it on the ground behind him.

“Fucking tease.” He kisses her knee before licking a stripe up her thigh, fingers spreading her pussy for him, her clit begging for his tongue. Liam’s not one to deny her, and this is no exception. His tongue darts out, teasing her nerves before he fuses his mouth to her, sucking on her sensitive skin. He knows how she likes it - hard, fast, and wet. He slides two fingers inside her, not even coming close to the sensation of filling her with his cock, but for now his fingers will have to do. He places a hand on her stomach, an attempt to still her wiggles, and it works.

“Dad- Li- shit,” she hisses, her head thrown back, one hand playing with her breast. When she stutters and almost breaks character, he knows she’s close. He adds a third finger and flicks her clit with her tongue, hearing her inhale sharply before her legs start to shake on either side of his head. “OhmyGodohfuckohyesLiamohmyGod,” she babbles in a rush, coming on his fingers and his tongue. Her fingers thread in his hair, pulling his mouth off of her, her breath fast and erratic as she tries to calm down.

He kisses up her stomach, placing tender kisses on her hard, sensitive nipples. She’s putty under his touch, melting into the bed under him, shifting so he’s fully on top of her. He fuses his mouth to hers, the taste of her heavy on his tongue. She doesn’t mind, anything to bring him closer to her.

Including posing as a prostitute in Amsterdam’s Red Light District under the very careful eye of Liam’s faithful personal security guard, Paddy, who still even at this moment is only half a block away, waiting. 

He moves to her side, holding her tight in his arms, her fingernails tracing down his biceps as she finally gets her heart-rate under control. He plays with her hair, kissing her neck and nipping at her ear before settling his head on his hand above her. “I know you said we had an hour, but what do you think about getting out of here and going back to our hotel? This room is kind of skeeving me out,” he chuckles quietly.

She nods sleepily. “That’s fine, although, technically, I have the room for another ten hours or so,” she giggles quietly. 

“Is that so,” he asks, eyebrow arched. “I mean, if you’d rather stay and go back to the window,” he teases, stopping when she pinches his nipple.

“No and no. Those few minutes I stood there were long enough, thanks.” She blushes a bright shade of pink. “We should go before the sun comes up, huh?”

He nods. “Probably a good idea, although Paddy is right around the corner with the car for us. When we’re ready, I’ll just text him.” He looks carefully at his girlfriend, her eyes still closed, her fingers still gripping his bicep. He’d stay right here with her all day if he could, but he knows with a show tonight, that just isn’t a possibility. Besides, he’d rather take her back to their posh hotel and make love to her after they’ve had a bubble bath and some breakfast.

What? Liam likes bubble baths, especially when Madison is involved.

Her eyes pop open and she nods, resolute in the decision to get up and get moving. “Can you help me with the bustier? Think you can manage it this time?” She giggles, placing the lace and satin around her torso. A few hours ago when she was getting dressed for this particular adventure, she had to call Lou for help; thank GOD she didn’t laugh too hard at her and her bumbling reason on why she needed help. This piece in particular was a bit more complicated; only an octopus would’ve been able to latch and hook and tie it on their first try. Lou’s a great stylist for the boys and an even better secret keeper - Madi knew her lips would be sealed.

Liam attempts to fasten the bustier, cursing every few seconds. “You know what? Just put your damn coat on.”

“Liam,” she chides. “But, I can’t-” The words die on her lips. She’s come this far. She slides the bustier off her hips and tucks it into her tote. He helps her with her trench coat before getting dressed himself, sitting to tie his sneakers. She ties the belt extra tight, almost threatening to cut off her oxygen, she’s so paranoid about giving a free show to the people of Amsterdam.

Well, more of one than she did those few terrifying moments in the window.

As they exit the building onto the street, Liam takes her hand. “If I forget to tell you, thank you for an amazing experience in Amsterdam,” she sighs. The street is relatively quiet, people dashing around them, not making eye contact (thankfully). 

He stops suddenly, wrapping his arms around her in the middle of the street. “I should be on my knees thanking you, but this will have to do.” He kisses her soundly. “I love you.”

She smiles, the words never getting old. “I love you, too.” As they walk toward Paddy in the black Mercedes, she giggles. “Maybe tonight we should try something else new.”

Liam laughs sharply. “Oh, like what?”

Madi bites her lip, a brief moment of hesitation plaguing her. “Ever heard of the Cannabis Cafe?”

Liam rolls his eyes and shakes his head, tucking her into the car. “I still have another, um, offering to collect. I think you’re going to be rather _tied up_ tonight, babe.”

**Oh shit.**


End file.
